Lost
by graysonsflight
Summary: Normally, Barbara Gordon would be furious with Dick Grayson for cancelling her plans for the evening. And normally, her father would be furious catching them alone together. But this isn't a normal night. It's a night that's going to change Dick Grayson, and their friendship, forever.


**AN:** Hey there guys so this story has been revamped so that it now fits into the Lost and Found verse. It absolutely can be read as a stand alone – but if you like these characterizations, or you're trying to see how they got to be who they are in the Metus story – this is a part of that character arc. Thank you so much for your support – enjoy :)

Barbara gazed at herself in her full-length mirror, doing a half twirl. Her knee length skirt flared and she smiled. Tucking in her green top, she was finally satisfied. She had changed her outfit three times.

" _It's just coffee,_ " she reminded herself. Yeah, it was just coffee, but it was someone taking a _huge_ risk by asking the police commissioner's daughter out for coffee. Jared Simone had invited her to coffee during lunch earlier that week. He'd strolled up, smiled at her and just _asked_. Dick had teased her about it all week. In fact, he'd started the minute Jared and turned his back. But it didn't matter. Jared was a nice guy; he was funny, and smart – and he was on the Gotham Academy's swimming and diving team. He was in fact, predicted to go to nationals this year.

Barbara had told her dad that she had a thing tonight, but she had avoided the fact that it was a date. She was glad that she was going to miss him. He would have realized she'd spent more time with her makeup – and then he would have started asking questions. He would want to know _literally_ everything about Jared. She knew he would have tried to look him up using the station's computers. Not that he would have been able to find anything; Jared was clean – _Barbara_ had already checked, with Dick leaning over her shoulder the whole time, adding in little comments and wisecracks here and there.

Barbara clicked a pair of little hoops into her ears, smiled, and then froze. A loud and insistent knocking came from the front door. Without hesitation, Barbara grabbed a Batarang, slipping it behind her back as she made her way to the door. The noise continued, sounding more desperate by the second. While their brownstone wasn't in a bad part of the city, this was Commissioner Jim Gordon's home. He'd made plenty of people angry. Barbara eased the door open carefully.

"Can I help-?" Barbara's voice caught in her throat. The sight in front of her left her breathless. Dick Grayson stood, soaked by the rain, his hair everywhere and his motorcycle helmet clutched in his shaking hand. She threw the door wider.

Dick stumbled into the room. Richard John Grayson, King of Grace and Defier of Gravity, _stumbled._ Barbara had grown up watching him fly and now… now the sight of him, with eyes rimmed red, shaking and chest heaving would be forever seared into her brain. He bumped into wall corners and counter tops as he moved his way through a space he knew well. The sound of his breathing was the only thing to break the silence.

Barbara turned her back on him for only a second to close and relock the door. She turned back as he slammed his hip into the island counter.

"Dick," she said, rushing towards him, her fingers wrapping around his writs to pull him towards her. "What happened?" He allowed himself to be pulled into the living room. They made it just in front of the couch before he could look at her.

"He…he's gone," he whispered. "Jay…he's…" and then he lost himself. Barbara opened her arms to him, and he fell into them. Barbara struggled to process the words he had said; all the while feeling his tears soak into her shirt. His whole body shook. A million questions assaulted Barbara's mind. _Jason? How?_ But she pushed it down, holding tight to the boy in her arms.

"I can't…" he whispered. "I can't…"

"Can't…?" Barbara asked, trying to pull back to look at him, but he held her too tight. "Dick, you can't what?"

" _…can't lose you too…_ "

Barbara felt her knees go weak. She wrapped her arms around him tighter, and brought them both onto the couch. He pulled into her – once again a ten-year-old boy afraid to take up space.

The clock on the bookcase let Barbara know she was suppose to have met Jared fifteen minutes ago. Her phone had been left in her bedroom; it had probably rung at least once, but Barbara didn't care. She would explain later.

Still curled in on himself, Dick stammered out an explanation.

"It was the Joker," he whispered. Barbara's heart clenched, frozen in her chest. Images of his paper white face and the sound of his laughter assaulted her, but she shook herself, willing it all away, forcing herself to focus on Dick.

"I was…" he stammered. "I was supposed to have been there…it should have been me." The sound of his breathing got louder and more ragged the more he talked. "…but Bruce and I were fighting again…and Jay…" He sucked in a breath, pulling away. "Jay wasn't supposed to…Alfred called me and Bruce…Bruce is bringing him home tomorrow and…" he looked up to her, his blue eyes seeking hers. "Babs… he's gone… I don't know how I'm going to tell… I have to tell the team." His eyes told the story of his panic, and Barbara rushed to push her feelings down. She could feel her own heart splintering, her mind now feeding her images of a wisecracking teenage boy who'd be stuck at fifteen forever. But she refused to give in. She choked back the sob that was threatening to escape her throat and held Dick tighter.

"Shhhh…" she whispered. "I'm right here." It had been a while since Dick's last panic attack, but Barbara could feel it coming. She rubbed a slow circle into his lower back. "Dick, I need you to focus, can you do that for me?"

He shook his head almost violently, like he was trying to displace whatever words were stuck there.

"I can't," he whispered. "I can't… I can't lose… I can't…"

"Three things." Barbara demanded, her hand reaching out to his cheek. "Tell me three things you can see."

Dick shook his head again, but this time slower, his eyes still panicked, but open and scanning the room.

"The book case?" he said, his voice still weak.

"Good, what else? Be more specific."

"The green curtain."

"One more," she prompted, mentally counting his breaths as they started to come in slower.

"My sneakers on the couch – God, Babs, I'm…" he started to move, his breathing catching again.

"You're okay!" she assured him, her hands reaching for his arm, not letting him up. "Now two things you can smell."

Dick paused, looking at her again before closing his eyes and filling his lungs.

"I smell coffee…?" he said it like a question, his voice coming up on the end.

"Yup, I made a pot for when dad gets home. What else?"

Dick breathed in again, this time his eyes opened.

"Your shampoo. You're using the cinnamon one again." Barbara let her self smile, just a little.

"Good," she said, taking his hand again. "Last one, one thing you feel." He looked back at her, the last bits of energy draining from his body as he sagged against her.

"You," he whispered. "You're right here."

"I am, and I'm not going anywhere," she promised. She pulled him closer, her arms slipping around him easily.

"I can't believe he's gone."

Barbara had had to strain to hear him. The pain was still there, but the panic was gone. The boy leaning against her sounded as lost as she felt.

"Me neither," she whispered back.

"I don't know what I'm going to do." Barbara didn't have an answer, so she said nothing, only held onto him.

They stayed like that, tears sliding down both of their faces and only the occasional sniffle breaking the silence, until the front door slamming into the wall broke them apart.

"Barbara!" Jim Gordon's voice cut through the air. "Sweetie? Have you—?"

The two of them stood, eyes glancing at each other before the Commissioner made into the room. The older man sighed heavily, his big hands rubbing over his face in relief.

"Thank God," he muttered, his eyes looking Dick up and down, from his mussed up hair and still wet sneakers.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Dick started, his eyes going down to the carpet. "I know you don't like me being here when Babs is alone…I just…"

"Come here, son," the man said, cutting him off, and pulling Dick into a bone crunching hug. Barbara knew the kind well, and smiled.

"Alfred's been worried sick," he said, still not letting go. "Said he'd tried calling you at least thirty times before he called the station."

"I know," Dick said apologetically.

"He was worried about you on that bike, in the rain, and you know…" Jim Gordon trailed off, finally pulling back from the hug and held Dick out at arm's length, not letting go, even as he switched his gaze over to Barbara.

"He's been here for a bit," she told her father.

"I had a hunch," he nodded, turning back to face Dick, and steering him towards the kitchen. "Let's give Alfred a call, and then see what we can do about getting you something to eat." Dick just nodded and allowed himself to be lead.

Barbara smiled a little watching them. She knew her dad wasn't an awesome cook. Dinner would probably be spaghetti, and maybe the bag of frozen meatballs they kept in the freezer for emergencies and this more than counted. In the Jim Gordon household, food meant love. Hungry was a manageable problem to be solved; grief was not nearly as simple.

She wiped her the back of her hand beneath her eyes, practically feeling the mascara and smudged eyeliner glide across her cheek.

"Babs, hunnie?" her father called looking back over his shoulder.

"I'll be right there," she assured him. "Just going to go change, so I can help." She watched as Dick's spine straightened and he turned towards her.

" _Shit_ , Babs, I'm sorry…" Dick cringed. "Your date."

"Date?" He father questioned, his eyebrows shooting up. "What date?"

Dick grimaced again, mouthing the apology this time, but Barbara just shook her head.

"It's all right. You call Alfred, I'll be right back." She turned away before either one could stop her. She made it into the bathroom, and had the water running before the fresh round of tear started falling from her eyes. With the water on, she knew neither Dick or her father would hear her.

"Okay, Babs," she coached herself, cringing a little when she saw her reflection. "Okay." Carefully, Barbara wiped what was left of her makeup from her face. She clutched the sink and breathed as deeply as she could, slowly ticking off what she knew in her head.

One: Jason Todd, at fifteen years old was dead. He would never call her Barbie again, or try and convince her to give Charles Dickens another try. Her best friend's little brother, _her_ friend, was never coming back.

Two: The Joker had killed him. That maniacal freakish monster was at fault, and she would find some way to make him suffer.

Three: Dick was teetering. Sure, he had pulled it together, but he was walking a high wire, and she was going to have to be his net. Which meant,

Four: It was time to lock it down. She would call Jared in the morning. She would apologize profusely, and when he offered to reschedule, she would have to turn him down.

Barbara met her own eyes in the mirror; she could see the fear there, but she choked it back, forcing herself to bury those emotions as deep as they would go. Later, when she was in her room, she would let them out of their box, she would try and come to terms with the life that had been lost. But for now, for now, she had to be strong.

 **AN:** I'm a little bit like a pixie – I live for attention and appreciate feedback. If you liked this and haven't checked out the Lost and Found verse – feel free to strap in. It is a pretty constant work in progress.


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